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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488966">Greenware</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc'>ioascc</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, DestielFFPrompt (Supernatural), Fluff and Smut, Friendship, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Part One Fluff, Part Two Smut, Part Two Timestamp, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher-Student Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:09:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She is beautiful, but she never stood a chance for how breathtaking her son is. </p><p>A story of longing and friendship. Recently divorced Castiel dives into the dating pool, Mary is beautiful but she doesn’t quite shine like her son. Being friends with the younger man is a wonderful torture.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brief Mary Winchester/Castiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mentioned Dean Winchester/Others</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelancholySeraph/gifts">MelancholySeraph</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All art described is inspired by the following artists; Kang Dong Hyan, Jennifer Lee, Paige Bradley, and Gregory Reade. </p><p>Prompt fill from MelancholySeraph on DestielPort. Original prompt from this sentence: "She is beautiful, but she never stood a chance for how breathtaking her son is."</p><p>Thank you to Feathers, who continues to cheerlead and edit my work. Without her, my work would be riddled with errors I cannot see.</p><p>As the additional tags state, part one can be standalone and the second part of this fic is a timestamp. Smutty timestamp. ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  </p><p>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Ambivalence</em>. That was the best way to describe Castiel’s emotions as his vehicle rolled into the driveway of 485 Robintree. His tires rolling to a slow stop behind a long sleek black vehicle. Mary Winchester had texted him earlier that day and invited him over. She had been vague, a quick invitation for drinks and dinner at her home. Castiel had readily accepted, he had liked Mary, the few dates they had been on were decent. They had bonded over the trials of separation and subsequent divorce. The chaste kiss they shared on their most recent date was agreeable, definitely not earth shattering. The emotion he felt for Mary was one of kinship and not romance, hence the ambivalence swirling in his gut.</p><p>It had been so long, before Jack was even born, since he had felt the warmth of another’s touch, and his body was eager for a date that was set in more intimate surroundings. Mary was beautiful, with her blonde curling hair and her bright blue eyes. She had plush lips and a long delicate neck. Mary wasn’t classically feminine, her hobbies were shooting and racing. She had a no-nonsense fiery attitude, was terrible in the kitchen, and was passionate about her sons. She was the sun to Kelly’s moon. Nothing about Mary reminded Castiel about his ex-wife. And Castiel was thankful for that.</p><p>Dressed in his best jeans, hair somewhat tamed, and wearing a shirt that miraculously wasn’t stained with clay, Castiel knocked on the wooden door of the mint green house.</p><p>“Castiel, right on time,” Mary smiled, pulling him into a quick hug. The house smelled of baked casserole; cheese, meat, and strangely… pickles.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you, Mary,” Castiel replied, offering the bottle of scotch he brought.</p><p>Leading him through the house to the kitchen, Castiel briefly took in his surroundings. Pictures of young men at various ages littered the surfaces of bookshelves. Mass produced art hung on the wall behind the couch and the walls were papered with red roses with light blue background. It isn’t to his taste, but the home radiated love.</p><p>“I’m so glad you could come on such short notice,” Mary started in the kitchen, tucking the bottle next to the sink, “Did you have any troubles getting a babysitter?”</p><p>“No, my brother Gabriel, he lives with me currently,” Castiel hesitantly answered, leaving his six year old with a former porn star turned confectioner was probably not his best moment of parenthood. Although, Gabe had promised not to feed the kid too much sugar and to only watch appropriate television.</p><p>“I’m glad, I remembered something you said on our first date… that you work at the University? Something about visual arts?”</p><p>Nodding, Castiel clears his throat while fiddling with the napkin basket on Mary’s counter, “I’m a lecturer for the Visual Arts. Pottery is my focus.”</p><p>“But, you could tell if someone had talent in something different…right?”</p><p>“In theory, yes? Talent is subjective,” replies Castiel.</p><p>“This necklace,” Mary gestures to the breathtaking piece hanging from her neck, heavy between her breasts and stark against her black shirt. She takes it off and hands it to Castiel. A smooth small blade, handle and all, is perfectly balanced and sharp. The metal almost glows with an internal power.</p><p>“It’s beautiful, yes, and deadly. The artist is definitely making a statement,” hums Castiel, turning the warm metal over in his hands.</p><p>“My son, Dean, made that. And that’s just him tinkering and fooling around,” Mary says excitedly, “He’s here. I just want you to talk to him about taking some classes at KU? If that’s alright.”</p><p>“Of course, he’s your oldest?”</p><p>“Yes, he’s showing his girlfriend one of his creations,” Mary states, waving him through a door into the garage. Mary introduces him to Cassie and her son Dean.</p><p>Dean… Dean is breathtaking. Castiel thought Mary was beautiful, but she never stood a chance against her son. Golden Adonis. Sandy blonde hair, verdant eyes, irresistible lips, and a strong jaw. His loveliness increases before Castiel’s eyes. He watches transfixed as a blush colors the freckled cheeks and the tips of Dean’s ears.</p><p>“Castiel is an art professor at KU. He liked your necklace, Dean,” Mary says hesitantly trying to break the weighty silence, “I’m going to finish getting dinner ready. While you're showing Cassie your work, can Castiel look too?”</p><p>Groaning, embarrassment tinging his cheeks, Dean agrees. Castiel is silent, his hands itching to touch Dean. He knows it’s inappropriate, but the artist in him is screaming at the presence of something so beautiful. Castiel wants to run his thumb across the cupid’s bow of Dean’s lip. In his delirium, Castiel can almost sense the phantom feeling of the tips of his fingers caressing the boy’s jaw line. Instead, he picks up one of Dean’s creations forgotten amongst scraps on his work bench.</p><p>Weighty in his palm, the hammered copper ring is gorgeous in its simplicity.</p><p>“You can have that,” Dean says brusquely, “It’s probably the most boring piece I’ve made.”</p><p>Castiel simply nods and thanks Dean, slipping the ring onto his right ring finger. He moves on, aware of Dean’s gaze burning into his profile. He can feel Dean’s eyes move over him. His hair, his jaw, his neck. He even catches Dean checking out his ass at one point, but Castiel stays quiet. He keeps his motions small, just in case he spooks Dean. Treading lightly as if Dean is a wild animal.</p><p>His eye wanders, to three different metal angels. Angels created by the smallest of hollow silver vines with solid wings in copper. Each angel stands a foot in height and by just looking at the creations Castiel knows it has taken painstaking work, each hollow angel is posed differently. The focus on anatomy, the fluid movement of their limbs, and the details of feathers are amazing.</p><p>“Do you sketch these before you create them?” Castiel asks over the whispers between Dean and Cassie.</p><p>“Yes,” Dean answers, his arm snaking around Cassie’s waist.</p><p>“These are beautiful, Dean,” Castiel says, his fingers brushing the arm of the angel reaching down and pulling the other angel up. These two angels are together, where another sits alone on a bench made of hammered steel.</p><p>“Thank you,” a shy deep reply reaches Castiel’s ears.</p><p>“I keep telling him that they are amazing. This is what he does when I have to work some nights,” Cassie says proudly, bumping her hip into Dean’s.</p><p>“They belong in a gallery,” Castiel comments, his eyes meeting Dean’s startled ones. Wide eyed and with flushed cheeks, Dean just nods and clears his throat.</p><p>“Dinner’s ready!” Mary’s voice calls and she wrings her hands nervously at Castiel, “So?”</p><p>“They are beautiful, Mary,” Castiel admits with a soft smile, “I believe Dean is quite talented.”</p><p>“I am trying to encourage him. He's talented enough to go to school at KU,” Mary admits quietly pouring a glass of lemonade and motioning for Castiel to sit next to her at the table. Dean rolls his eyes, this must be a frequent argument between the two.</p><p>“Ma, we’ve talked about it. I’m fine at the garage,” Dean mumbles and sits down across from Castiel.</p><p>“Working for your Dad, I know, I just think… I just think you can do so much, baby. They are so beautiful and people should see them,” Mary says scooping some of her dinner creation onto Dean’s plate with vigor.</p><p>“Your new boyfriend’s opinion is not going to convince me to sign up and go to school,” Dean deadpans sticking a fork into the mountain of cheese and meat.</p><p>“We are just friends,” Mary sighs and looks to Castiel, exasperation clearly written on her face.</p><p>“Okay,” Dean says sarcastically, “What do you do, Cas?”</p><p>Pleased at the sudden shortened nickname, Castiel takes a sip of lemonade and decides to do his best to hook Dean into going to school. “I am what you would call a studio potter. I make ceramic pots and cups for collectors.”</p><p>“You make pots and cups?” Dean questions, his tone suggesting a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. Castiel pulls out his phone and pulls up pictures from his workshop of his most recent show. Carefully, artistically arranged. His niece, Claire, took the photos and made sure they were “‘Gram worthy.” His publicist, Balthazar, bemoans the fact that he lets Claire do all his social networking but Castiel is happy to pay her for her amazing work.</p><p>“This pot here,” Castiel gestures to one of his favorites, a white vessel with soft gray ring around the top, “Sold for five grand.”</p><p>“<em>What the fuck</em>,” Dean breathes out, his eyes getting even bigger.</p><p>“Language!” Mary barks embarrassed, but Castiel knows she’s looking at him differently. He told Mary he was a simple lecturer, which is true in some cases… but he’s a bit more than that.</p><p>“Are you famous?” Cassie asks, holding his phone and flicking through the pictures quickly.</p><p>“People collect my work.” Simply stated, Castiel tries to stay humble despite his rise to fame. It takes decades for artists to receive recognition, he simply got lucky more quickly than some more talented artists.</p><p>“I love it, working with clay. I put my energy into each piece and I hope that that energy manifests from the vessel to the person who eventually owns it,” Castiel says and takes a bite of the forgotten dinner in front of him. It tastes like a cheeseburger. “This is very good,” he smiles and takes another bite. The cheesy goodness melts in his mouth.</p><p>“I could make money from my angels? And my other sculptures?” Dean asks, his tone hushed. He fiddles with his fork. Green eyes uncertain and so very young.</p><p>“If you wanted to, but some people… once they turn their hobby and love into a job, they lose inspiration,” Castiel admits, his sister Anna loved writing. She was full of wonderful stories and amazing characters. Once she had signed a contract and was held to the publishers deadlines, her passion fizzled out.</p><p>“I just… I like doing it, but it’d be pretty cool to see them displayed somewhere. Or someone paying for them,” admits Dean.</p><p>“Well, a good way to decide if you want to pursue something is going to school for it. Making deadlines and making work for assignments. Pushing your boundaries and growing your craft,” Castiel pauses, “You can swing by the school on your day off, I can show you around.”</p><p>Dean agrees, Mary beams, and Castiel lights up with the possibility of spending more time with Dean.</p><hr/><p>Dean is quiet as Castiel shows him around. Castiel feels a chasm growing between the two of them while they walk the empty halls. School isn’t in session, so Castiel is free to take Dean into the different studio spaces that KU has to offer. At KU, the Metalsmithing studio is spread across seven rooms with many different tools made accessible to the students. Castiel watches Dean’s expressions as they take in the milling machine.</p><p>“Is jewelry making something you are interested in?” Castiel asks, the empty room hushes his words to a quiet whisper.</p><p>“I don’t really know,” answers Dean hesitantly, “I know, I’m not very good with computers.” He says gesturing with a flippant wave of the hand to the milling machine and the computer.</p><p>“There are classes for learning the CAD program. Everyone starts somewhere and you’ll have to start with prerequisites anyway; english, math, drawing, and even sculpture 101,” Castiel says, gently teasing and moving on into the next room.</p><p>Dean only nods, so Castiel shows him the ceramics studio. Castiel knows that Dean is drawing further into himself with each room Castiel shows him, so he cuts the tour short. He makes a beeline for the office that he shares with a few other lecturers. Some of his vessels are placed high on the shelf, amongst other professor’s work. Professor Crowley’s ceramic demon masks are hanging on the opposite wall. Dean makes a face at them when he sits down across from Castiel’s desk. His face is blank, but Castiel watches while he picks at the seam of his jeans.</p><p>“How much is tuition?” Dean asks, finally breaking the silence.</p><p>“In-state tuition, approximately a little under twelve thousand a year.”</p><p>“I… I can’t afford that,” Dean grunts, “Not with everything else going on in my life. Cassie wants us to move in together. So I have to cover rent and utilities.”</p><p>“You can get scholarships, the university offers a few based on your ACT or SAT scores.”</p><p>“I didn’t do well,” mumbles Dean, eyes downcast.</p><p>“Is money the only thing holding you back? There are student loans,” Castiel answers, though he doesn’t believe in student loans. Trapping the young and bleeding them dry.</p><p>“So I can pay for them for the rest of my life? Be in debt forever? No thank you.”</p><p>Nodding, Castiel looks up at his vessels on the high shelf. They are collecting dust and are easily replaceable. There are four in total, various shapes and sizes. Each vessel could easily be worth up to five thousand dollars a piece. Fishing around for a bag, he snatches up the roll of garbage bags hidden underneath the current bag in the bin. He feels Dean’s curious eyes on him when he reaches up and takes each pot down and places them on his desk.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“Wrapping these up for you to take home and sell on Ebay or some other site,” Castiel answers easily, “I’ll give you Claire’s information, she’ll be able to photograph and market these vessels for you to maximize your profit.”</p><p>“Cas… fuck, no…I can’t take your work.”</p><p>“I’m giving it to you, you gave me a gift and now I’m returning the favor,” Castiel protests, continuing his methodical wrapping and placing each vessel carefully in a few flimsy garbage bags. Dean grabs his arm to stop his work.</p><p>“<em>Son of a bitch</em>, a scrap of copper is not the same as five grand fucking pots!” Dean exclaims, his face beat red from frustration.</p><p>“This scrap of copper may be worth five thousand dollars at some point,” Castiel demurs, fingers flexing and staring down at the copper ring, “You etched your initials inside. Perhaps once you become revered for your sculptures, I’ll be able to sell it and make back the money I invested in you.”</p><p>“I can’t let you do this,” Dean breathes, eyes wide. He’s so close, only the desk between them, and Castiel can make out the flecks of gold in the field of his green eyes.</p><p>“I don’t need your permission to gift my own work, it is mine to do as I wish with it,” Castiel reasons, he feels Dean’s large hand burning through his layers of clothes. Suit jacket and shirt melting beneath Dean’s touch.</p><p>Castiel watches as warring expressions flicker across Dean’s face; uncertainty, gratitude, frustration, and finally acceptance. Dean nods, letting go of his arm. He has won this battle and Castiel feels triumph buzzing through his veins making him smile.</p><p>“Alright, but we have to make some kind of contract for me to pay you back,” Dean concedes.</p><p>Humming an agreement, but not really agreeing, Castiel nods and the two men sit down to hash out how Dean can repay Castiel.</p><hr/><p>Castiel and Dean fall into a routine once the semester starts. Along with Dean doing odd jobs for Castiel here and there, a coffee run and sometimes copies of assignments that need to be made, their routine lasts the entire four years Dean is enrolled, an unspoken pleasant standing date that neither man deviates from. Castiel was so pleased the first time Dean popped by to eat a very late lunch on a random Thursday, at the very beginning of his first semester. Mary had baked more of her cheeseburger creation and Dean wanted to share the leftovers with Castiel. From then on, Castiel assumes purposefully, Dean seeks out the quiet of Castiel’s office every Thursday afternoon. They don’t discuss it, but their schedules are always arranged to have Thursday afternoon open. Sometimes they talk, every time they share a meal, and sometimes there is peaceful and intimate silence that makes Castiel’s heart ache with happiness.</p><p>
  <em>Approximately two hundred and eight Thursdays shared.</em>
</p><p>Castiel can admit to himself that he is deeply in love with Dean. It snuck up so slowly, softly, and warmed his entire being. Dean has breathed new life into Castiel, and has inspired new art. His younger friend is so talented, smart, witty, and above all endearing. Not to mention his physical beauty, the wide shoulders and tapered waist. The beautiful long fingers of a working man with visible calluses. Dirty blonde hair. Those verdant eyes with flecks of gold. Castiel can go on, in his private moments, he does go on… spinning ridiculous images in his mind of the two of them together.</p><p>In his fantasy, every coffee handed over with a smile means more than friendship. It’s a coffee and a sweet press of Dean’s lips to his. The chocolate bar left on his desk with a note is from his sweetheart who just wants him to have something to munch on after his labs. A mixtape of Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin songs made by Dean is so they can listen to it together in his truck. Every time Dean searches him out to tell him about a current project, to show Castiel what he’s working on… Castiel likes to think it’s because they are partners.</p><p>He’s delusional. <em>He knows this</em>. But every action of Dean’s is colored by Castiel’s unrequited love.</p><p>In his thoughts, he can live out his fantasy because Castiel knows that Dean doesn’t feel the same. Castiel has mastered swallowing his feelings (and heartbreak) whenever Dean speaks about his various paramours throughout the four years of knowing him. Cassie, Lisa, Aaron, and Layla. While Dean dates, Castiel self imposed celibacy and convinces himself, albeit poorly, that he’s fine and that he doesn’t require a life partner to enjoy his life. He has Dean’s friendship, he has Jack at home, and if he really is desperate… he has Gabriel’s questionable company.</p><p>No one questions his self imposed singleness.</p><p>It’s not until Mary, who is feeling particularly romantic because of a new beau, corners him at Dean’s graduation party. He has been successful in avoiding this conversation for the past four years. He’s even avoided the probing personal questions whenever Castiel hands over a few spare pots for Dean to sell for tuition. Like; <em>“Why are you doing this? Who is Dean to you?”</em></p><p>His soul aches to answer those questions, but he keeps it shoved down. It’s the Winchester way after all.</p><p>“We haven’t talked in a while, just you and me. How’s everything going? Dean mentioned that you’ve been single for quite some time. He likes to joke that the last person you dated was me. Not hung up on me, are you Cas?” She teases, while the two of them cut cake for the masses in the kitchen.</p><p>She caught him unawares, without another person to deflect the conversation. Nervously, Castiel looks for someone else to help avoid this conversation. Jack is out playing in the backyard with Sam and John, throwing a baseball around, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Rufus are sitting outside drinking beer and watching, and Dean is MIA. He’s alone and Mary’s gaze is unwavering.</p><p>“No, of course not Mary… I just couldn’t tempt my zână out of the woods to accompany me this afternoon,” Castiel jokes back, but by the look on Mary’s face… the joke is neither appreciated or understood.</p><p>A burst of Dean’s laughter from the other side of the kitchen makes Castiel smile. Dean shakes his head in fondness at his mother and Castiel.</p><p>“You are such a nerdy guy, Cas,” he laughs and pats him on the back, bringing Cas in close to his own body to place a teasing hand on the nape of Castiel’s neck. A quick kiss on the temple and what Castiel fondly calls a quick “bro” hug, with a slap on the back and everything.</p><p>“And yet you got my joke,” Castiel responds, trying unsuccessfully to fight the quirk of his lips.</p><p>“True,” Dean concedes and grabs a piece of cake, heading out the door with a saucy wink, “But only because you talked about mythology and lore so much once I started working with bronze.”</p><p>Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Castiel lets the cool air kiss his warmed cheeks. Breathing in the weird smells of refrigeration, he wills the errant thoughts away. Dean has been having that effect on him lately. Every wink, every touch, anything remotely not heteronormative behavior causes his blood to rush to his face and his cock. His desire to be more with Dean needs to be reined in, he doesn't want to lose his friendship.</p><p>“<em>Son of a bitch!</em>”</p><p>Mary slams the refrigerator shut, almost clipping Castiel’s nose off.</p><p>“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” Mary exclaims, making Castiel so very confused. His face must explain it all because Mary throws up her hands and gestures towards Castiel, “You, Cas. You are hung up on Dean.” Mary studies him as he blushes further. “You’re not just hung up on him are you… you love him,” she finishes gently</p><p>“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Castiel stutters out, backing up and out of Mary’s arm reach.</p><p>“Castiel,” Mary starts with hands on her hips, “Don’t lie, not to me.”</p><p>“Mary, I’m Dean’s mentor. All you see is friendship between two artists. I really don’t know what you are talking about,” Castiel says again, his words coming out smoother with more confidence.</p><p>Mary watches him, her face falling and she huffs out a sigh of exasperation, “Fine.”</p><p>Castiel leaves it like that, the tension heavy in the air, and he convinces himself that he truly believes everything he’s said to Mary.</p><hr/><p>The unforgiving fluorescent lights beat down on him and Castiel can feel himself sweat. He’s beyond uncomfortable at Dean’s first gallery showing, he hasn't seen much of Dean since he started dating Carmen six months ago. An act of self-preservation because his heart cannot take any more, even though Castiel can attest that absence does make the heart grow fonder.</p><p>The bronze statues are breathtaking in their patina, men and women in various poses and shapes. Each figure represents a different mythology or lore. The lines are beautiful, the detail breathtaking. Castiel ambles around, familiar with the majority of Dean’s work. He’s been a part of almost every single one of Dean’s creations at some point. Sketching, clay rendering, wax, ceramic molds, and even watching Dean casting his sculptures in bronze. He recognizes every figure, except one.</p><p>He stops still at an angel with his wings wrapped around another man, embracing and protecting. The man’s face is tucked into the angel’s neck. It’s a lover's embrace, tight, with the angel hand resting on the back of man’s head.</p><p>Looking at the nameplate and the not for sale sticker, Castiel feels the blood drain from his face. The work is called, “<em>Angel of Thursdays</em>.”</p><p>He feels like hastily molded greenware, air pockets and all, placed into a kiln just to shatter into a million pieces. A lady comments on the statue's beauty and Castiel nods in agreement. Unseeing and unhearing. People pass and Castiel stands in front of his sculpture. He feels the emotion emanating from this sculpture right to his marrow. Heady and powerful, seductive. In his mind’s eye, he can see Dean creating this masterpiece. Castiel shivers, as he trails a finger down the shafts of the primary feathers.</p><p>“Hey Cas,” Dean’s voice breaks his reverie.</p><p>“Dean.”</p><p>“You found our statue,” Dean quietly whispers into Castiel’s ear, pulling the slightly shorter man close into his body. Back to front, Dean wraps his arms around Castiel, his eyes trained on the five foot statue in front of them.</p><p>“I did,” Castiel breathes out, hesitantly, slowly.</p><p>“I’m glad,” whispers Dean, his hand trailing down Castiel’s arm to intertwine their fingers. Dean’s fingers playing on the copper ring Castiel placed there so many years ago. He can feel Dean’s lips brush up against his ear, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against his back, “I’ve missed you, I didn’t realize how much… until I stopped seeing you every Thursday.”</p><p>“I have missed you more than you could ever know,” Castiel admits softly, the words scaring him and he wishes he could swallow them back. He doesn’t want to scare Dean, doesn’t want… he doesn’t know what he wants or doesn’t want with Dean pressed so closely against him.</p><p>“I think I know,” Dean answers, placing a soft kiss on Castiel’s cheek. His lips drag downwards until Dean eventually rests his forehead against Castiel’s temple. Another soft secret is whispered from Dean’s lips, “I never want to part from you, I think… I think I want to be with you always. From here on out, to the end of the line.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s lips, chaste kiss sealing their future.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Years Later...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Deep in his artistic meditation, methodical with his movements, Castiel loses himself in the clay. He has the studio barn to himself today, not that he doesn’t mind sharing the workspace with Dean…but at times he can be very noisy. The love of his life likes to blast Led Zeppelin and sing along while he works. Classic rock blasts whether he’s creating his statues, or fixing up the ’67 Mustang for Jack, or even building bird houses for his mother. Castiel admits that Dean has a beautiful singing voice, but sometimes he needs the silence of the clay to speak to him. </p><p>At times, he misses his little studio in his first home with the large windows and the hushed silence that lay around him like fresh snow. But, wishing for his past studio would mean he didn’t have Dean. He couldn’t live without Dean now, they are so entwined in each other's lives. Their relationship was built through hard work and dedication.  It took a few years for Dean to agree to move in together, and even longer for Castiel to agree to share an artistic workspace. They’ve shared their highs and lows and for Castiel… it’s all been beautiful. Castiel would never want Dean any other way than he is, so even though classic rock is not his preferred medium to work to, Castiel is happy to share the space. Their workshop is a renovated barn outside their home, Dean’s workstations take up the majority of the space with Castiel in the loft. </p><p>Up high in his loft, the heat is sweltering. The AC unit that Dean shoved into his window is sputtering along miserably. The main HVAC unit is down, a man is coming along to fix it tomorrow, so Dean’s quick fix was a meaningful gesture. He could have put work off till tomorrow, but his fingers have been itching to press and pinch and create. </p><p>He sits naked in the loft, deep in concentration, the world melting around him. He feels the sweat drip down his back, knows his hair is curling from the humidity. He’s at an important part, smoothing the inside and drawing the clay up by hand. Dean even built him his work table to be a comfortable height, his past work tables had caused unbearable strain being hunched over all the time. His husband is thoughtful like that, he still brings Castiel a chocolate bar after late labs like he did so long ago. </p><p>Lost in thoughts of Dean and his work, Castiel is unaware of everything until he feels his husband’s calloused hands on his shoulder. It’s as if his thoughts had summoned his husband. </p><p>Castiel would have jumped out of skin, but Dean’s touch is steady. A slow drag down his arm, then back up to the nape of Castiel’s neck. </p><p>“I brought lemonade up here, thirty minutes ago, and you didn’t even register I was here,” Dean huffs and presses a hard kiss to his head. His lips drag and he moves to nip at the top of Castiel’s ear. </p><p>“My apologies,” Castiel mumbles absentmindedly after a few minutes of silence, but he doesn’t stop his work. </p><p>Dean chuckles, his thumb caressing in circles trying to entice Castiel to stop his working. Dean’s tongue sucks on his neck, bringing the flesh between his teeth and leaving a bruise. His husband delights in marking up Castiel, claiming him and in the process making Castiel’s hands fumble a little. Dean’s lips venture down, dropping open mouthed kisses down both of Cas’ shoulders, nibbling on the knobs of his spine, flicking out his tongue to the cleft of Castiel’s cheeks. Laving his tongue upwards, gathering the salt from Castiel’s skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Dean’s hands are wandering, pressing and pulling on Castiel’s muscles. It feels marvelous, like it always does. Dean is the best lover, man or woman, Castiel has ever had. He likes to take his time, is gentle and thorough, and by the end of their lovemaking Castiel is always boneless. Dean knows his body and in turn, Castiel knows Dean’s. </p><p>Dean’s hands move to Castiel’s front, rolling his nipples between his nimble fingers and traveling downwards. Castiel lets out a soft gasp when a deft finger teases the slit of his weeping cock that Castiel is doing his hardest to ignore. </p><p>“<em>Dean,” </em>warns Castiel, he’s in the middle of work. They have a rule, no seduction while the other is working. Too many of their projects have been ruined that way. </p><p>“<em>Cas,” </em>Dean parrots back, though his tone is a little more teasing than Castiel’s own. </p><p>Letting out a long sigh, Castiel wipes his hands on the rag, “You know the rule, I’m working.” </p><p>“Nice to meet you working, I’m Dean and I’m also prepped and really fucking horny,” Dean teases, turning Castiel around on his work stool by hooking a hand under his husband’s arm. </p><p>Castiel practically swallows his tongue, Dean is also naked though his husband's chest is ruddy and his pupils are blown. His usually coiffed hair is a little askew and his lips are red from being bitten. His cock is hard, curving up to his stomach, twitching under  Castiel’s gaze. Castiel’s eyes wander from Dean’s cock to the widened stance of his legs, the muscles of his thighs, the curve of calves, and to the fine bones of Dean’s feet. Dean’s hands are teasing  Castiel, his fingers trailing over Castiel’s Adam’s apple to dip into the hollow of Castiel’s clavicle. </p><p>“Prepped?” Castiel’s voice catches on the word, reaching for a rag clumsily. </p><p>Grinning like a cat that caught the canary, “You are so sexy, up here working naked. I couldn’t help myself.” </p><p>Swallowing audibly, “Yeah?” </p><p>Pulling Castiel up and pushing him into an oversized plush lounge chair Cas likes to use for napping, Dean straddles him eagerly. Pulling the rag out of his hands and tossing over his shoulder, Dean takes Castiel’s still dirty hands to rest on his buttocks. “The things you do to me and you don’t even know,” Dean basically purrs and rocks up against Castiel’s cock. Dean loops his arms around Castiel’s neck, rubbing his nose and peppering soft kisses all along Castiel’s jaw. Castiel runs a finger down Dean’s cheek to his lips, forgetting about the clay on his hands until he sees it. Dean smiles, eyes happy and shining and he kisses Castiel softly. Castiel won’t mention the clay, they both are past caring about it anyway. </p><p>“I have an idea,” Castiel groans out, head dropping back. Dean chuckles against Castiel’s lips and teases Castiel, nipping at his lips but not giving into a kiss. Growling, Castiel grabs the back of Dean’s neck and smashes their lips together. Carding his tacky clay fingers through Dean’s hair and smearing residual clay along his back. With one hand firm on Dean’s neck and the other pulling on his ass, Castiel dominates the kiss wrecking Dean in the process. Teeth, tongues, and lips worship Dean until his husband is vibrating with need. </p><p>Dean’s hands shake as he grasps both their cocks and unsteadily strokes them together, even dry, the feeling is bliss. Castiel can tell that Dean’s close to the edge, he must have had a lot of fun prepping himself. Sucking Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth, his husband lets out the filthiest of moans when Castiel plays with the plug nestled between his cheeks.</p><p>“So good for me, baby,” Castiel breathes, pulling the plug out and then pushing it back in watching Dean’s eyes flutter and his mouth drop open. His hips searching for friction against Castiel’s own. A keen of desperation emits from his husband’s throat when he pulls the plug out and tosses it aside. </p><p>“Lube?” </p><p>“Got it,” Dean answers, reaching over and pulling the bottle that was hidden in the chair. Castiel takes a giddy moment, pleased with Dean and his flawless seduction plan. The bottle cap pops, the sound loud compared to their heavy breathing and the dying AC unit. Pouring a generous amount into his hand, Dean coats Castiel, twisting and pulling just the way he likes. Dean’s thumb running around the head of his cock and massaging down its base.</p><p>Letting out a happy sigh, Castiel sinks further into the plush chair, enjoying Dean’s hands on him. They are both covered in a fine sheen of sweat now, making Dean’s freckles glisten and shine in the sun. <em> Beautiful </em> and <em> mine</em>, is all Castiel can think. He watches with hooded eyes as Dean steadies himself over his cock, feels as his husband slowly lowers himself till he’s fully seated and Dean’s warmth is all encompassing. Dean lets out soft breathless pants, anchoring his large calloused hands on Castiel’s shoulders. </p><p>“I love this feeling,” Dean words are hushed not wanting to disturb the intimate moment between them, licking Castiel’s bottom lip into his mouth, “Your cock so deep inside of me, just being still like this feels so good.” </p><p>Castiel hums, hands running down Dean’s sides and down over his cock, “It does feel good, doesn’t it? Next time, I’ll bottom.” </p><p>“It's a plan, love,” Dean laughs, his hips swirling up and down to meet Castiel’s steady stroke. </p><p>Laughter transforms into soft gasps of <em> fuck, so good, feels so good, and Cas. </em>Dean rides Castiel at his own pace, slowly and with a soft smile. He’s reverent in his touches today, full of love for Castiel and enjoyment in their bodies coming together slowly, despite his trembling earlier. Castiel simply guides Dean, his hands soft on his hips, watching in amazement the rise and fall of the beautiful man before him. Every flicker of muscle, every soft gasp that slips between Dean’s lips is gathered up and memorized by Castiel. His heart and mind are full of Dean and Dean only. </p><p>They move together, years of pleasing each other between them. Castiel watches as Dean tips his head back, riding his cock. Dean’s own cock remains untouched, twitching and leaking precome beautifully. Small beads of pearlescent fluid drip down the head, making Castiel’s mouth water. </p><p>“Another time,” Dean pants out, his rhythm unsteady, as if he’s reading Castiel’s mind, “<em>Fuck me, please. </em>” </p><p>Castiel doesn’t need to be asked twice, his hands bruising on Dean’s hips, he pistons up into his husband. His hands slipping some from the clay, but he holds tight. Dean’s moans, the slap of their flesh coming together spurs Castiel  closer to his own orgasm. Castiel is angled just right, so he’s brushing up against Dean’s prostate and his husband groans his name in satisfaction. The clench of Dean’s channel and the digging of Dean’s fingers into his shoulders creating a heady mix of pain and pleasure. </p><p>Dean’s exclaimations have been reduced to <em> fuck </em> and <em> Cas. </em> It is “<em>Cas” </em> that’s shouted when Dean’s orgasm explodes between the two of them, painting Castiel’s stomach and almost up towards his chest. Castiel’s own orgasm sneaks up, slamming into him and making him see stars. Shuddering, Dean drops down and nestles up against Castiel. Castiel’s aftershocks jostle them both and they laugh and trade soft kisses with swollen lips and lazy tongues. Every kiss an ‘<em>I love you’ </em> until Castiel softens and slips out of Dean. </p><p>“Even prepping downstairs, I still think you got clay in my ass,” Dean petulantly pouts a few minutes later, earning himself a small swat on the bottom.  </p><p>“You knew the risk of seducing a clay artist,” Castiel teases and Dean grumbles but kisses him with a loud happy smack of his lips. Dean is covered in drying clay, from his head to ass. </p><p>“I did and I really wouldn’t have you any other way,” Dean echoes Castiel’s earlier thoughts.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for reading Greenware! :)</p>
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